Stalking Death
by Knife Hand
Summary: One Hundred five year old children, all around the world, disappear. It is the most mysterious Case of Amelia Bones' Career. Six years later, three of them reappear, and Amelia almost wishes they hadn't because the Wizarding World will never be the same again. Chapter 5 up
1. Chapter 1

Title: Stalking Death

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Predator. I would buy them but I am broke.

Summary: One Hundred five year old children, all around the world, disappear. It is the most mysterious Case of Amelia Bones' Career. Six years later, three of the reappear, and Amelia almost wishes they hadn't because the Wizarding World will never be the same again.

* * *

October 13th, 1985,

Amelia Bones sat at her desk, having to fill in for her boss as acting head of the Underage Wizarding division of the Auror department. She looked over the stack of reports outlining four cases of five year old witches and wizards who disappeared. The missing children included the Weasley's youngest boy Ron and the Longbottom boy.

"Hey Bones." A Wizard assigned to the division said, popping his head into her temporary office.

"Yeah, what is it Marcus?" she replied.

"We got some reports in from Scotland Yard and Interpol you might want to take a look at. Also some from the Magical Law enforcement around the world."

"Put them on the table. I'll get to them in the minute." She replied.

Six hours latter she was deeply troubled. All over the world almost one hundred children aged five and six had disappeared, given the differences in time zones, at the exact same time, and not a single person, magically or muggle, had seen anything even though several of the abductions had happened in crowded public places.

Over the next eight months every law enforcement agency would follow up leads and then eventually let the cases of the missing children go cold. But four names would be forever burned into Amelia's memory. Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Kathryn Creevey and Jenny Macintyre.

July 3rd, 1991

"An Owl just delivered this for you, Director Bones." Her secretary said. "It's from Hogwarts."

"Thank you." Amelia said.

She opened the long scroll and set about the long task of examining the names on the list. Every new first year who had confirmed their enrolment.

* * *

Six years had passed since the mass kidnapping and the names still burned bright on her mind. Now the children would be eleven, the same age as her niece Susan.

Two hours later she was stunned. Neville Longbottom was on the list, and one other name that had nagged at her, so she had gone through all the names and had found a match. Hermione Granger.

"Phillip. Get me Dumbledore on the floo." She called out. "I need to see him about two of his new students."

As she marched out of her office, the list of names from the original investigation sat on her desk. Ninety-nine children reported missing around the world on the one day. One child taken but not reported.

* * *

Human beings, no matter what venire of civilisation they had acquired, are still nothing more than social animals, and all social animals instinctively know when really dangerous predators are around, be they internal to the group or external. It is evidenced whenever there is a crowd, the way the tide of humanity parts to allow these individuals to pass, be they jocks in a high school or police in a raid. In the modern age, most of those perceived as truly dangerous have some outward sign of their status, be it a football jacket, a badge or an assault rifle.

The rare few have no outward sign, just that instinctive reaction in the primitive portion of the brain that tells everyone around them to be careful. This primitive instinct is why, on the First of September, in the middle of a crowded Kings Cross station, three eleven year old children strode in their own little space as they made their way to platform 9 ¾.

All three were dressed in black slacks, black combat boots, black tank tops and heavy, almost floor length, black leather jackets with slightly loose sleaves, carrying large duffle bags that looked too heavy for the youngsters to be able to lift, let alone carry any distance. The two boys had short, dark hair, while the girl had longer light brown hair held back in a ponytail.

Perhaps it was the way they held themselves, shoulders naturally set back, their backs straight, heads held high. Or maybe it was the way they moved, a smooth and flowing gait and manoeuvring their heavy bags with ease. But for most it was their eyes. Cold, clear and focused; never resting on one place for more than a moment.

One by one they walked through the barrier to the platform with no hesitation. The platform was fairly busy except for one island of calm that was centred around a middle aged woman with dark hair in a severe bun and a monocle. On one side of her was a large, solid black man and the other was an older Witch in a green dress with, of all things, a vulture decorating her hat. When woman with the monocle spotted them, a look of recognition flashed across her face and she made her way towards them with the other two following. The three recognised the authority of the Witch with the monocle, so they stood to attention, dropping their duffle's by their side and thumped their fists over their hearts.

"23, 45 and 72 reporting." The boy with green eyes said.

"Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, I presume. And what is your name?" The Witch replied.

"Harry Potter, Ma'am." Harry replied.

"Oh my. The monocle Witch said. "My name is Amelia Bones. Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. My companions are Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dame Augusta Longbottom, your Grandmother Neville."

Neville did a half bow to his Grandmother.

"Is there a problem, Ma'am?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, you and Mister Longbottom were reported kidnapped six years ago, along with over ninety-five others. Can you tell me where you have been and what happened to you?" Amelia asked.

"Makes you wonder how they knew it would be us." Neville said.

Hermione bent down and pulled a bundle out and handed it over to Amelia.

"We were far away." Hermione replied in a low voice, handing the bundle over to Amelia.

Amelia took the bundle and opened it up to find a mass of small metal disks connected together by a leather cord. Amelia looked at one which had 'Peter Johanus' on one side and '38' on the other, the next one said 'Ronald Weasley' and '44'.

"Are these…?" Amelia asked, stunned.

"ID's of the dead. Eighty-nine in total." Harry said.

"How?" Augusta Longbottom asked.

"Five suicides, seventy-four in training accidents and ten killed during Hunts." Harry recited.

"And the other eight?" Kingsley asked.

"Returned to earth. In the US and China." Neville replied. "Now we need to board or we will miss the train."

"May I ask who took you?" Amelia tried one last time.

"They are several hundred thousand Light Years outside you Jurisdiction, Director Bones." Harry said and then made a swift hand motion.

In unison, the three picked up their duffle's and boarded the train.

* * *

The trio managed to find an empty compartment on the train and claimed it for themselves, locking the compartment door and drawing the blinds. Once the compartment was secure, they all took their long jackets off. What the jackets revealed was enough to give even hardened soldiers the chills, assuming they realised what they were actually seeing. All three had seven lines of a strange script tattooed into the top outside of their left bicep and around fifteen shorter lines on the outside of the right bicep. The script was made up of a series of short dashes, very similar to the way characters are displayed on an electronic typewriter, with all of the dashes being either vertical, horizontal or at a 45 degree angle, but none of the characters even remotely resembled any earth language. They were are history of where they had been and what they had done.

"What's the play, 72?" Neville asked.

"Let's see the lay of the land for the moment." Harry replied. "Keep your guard up and don't start anything."

"Got it, boss." Neville replied.

Hermione cocked her head at Harry. Harry had know her long enough to know that meant she had a question, but unlike Neville she would not ask without his say so. That had been beaten into her very early.

"What is it 23?" Harry asked.

"Armament?" Hermione asked her voice gravelly.

She had sustained a wound to her vocal chords that their trainers had not been able to fully repair, even though there was no visible scar. She was still as inquisitive and hungry for knowledge as the day Harry had first met her, but with the need to ask constant questions trained out of her, and the wound to her throat that made speech a bit of a chore, she was not as verbally bossy or overbearing as she once had been. Of course she had developed both a sign language and a coded language of clicks for use both when speech was to straining on her throat and in the field on Hunts. Both languages now had vocabularies in the tens of thousands of 'words'.

"Concealed." Harry replied. "Daggers, Wrist Blades. Your Combistick, 23. No Plasma Casters or Armour. And from now on, use names not designations."

Hermione and Neville nodded at the order. Their Pack had always used names when in the privacy of their bunk room, but all the… recruits, had been required to use their designation in public. When they had been allocated into Packs on their 'arrival', most Packs had contained ten to twelve 'recruits'. Three Packs, including theirs, were different, having smaller numbers. Their pack was the largest of these with six, the other two having five.

72, Harry Potter. 23, Hermione Granger. 45, Neville Longbottom. 44, Ronald Weasley. 19, Kathryn Creevey. 66, Jenny Macintyre. They all had what had been dubbed 'The Edge', and perhaps that was why they had been made a Pack. Sometimes, things happened around them that could make the un-survivable, survivable. But only sometimes, and the problem with having 'The Edge' was more was expected of them. Still, half their Pack had survived, and only one of them had died in training accidents, the other two had died on Hunts.

The Packs of four in the US and China were reconstituted, made up of the sole survivors of their original Packs, none of whom had 'The Edge'. The training attrition rate was high even for their Trainer's own species, but nowhere near the 9 in 10 of the human recruits. Apparently it had been an experiment, as some Yautja who had hunted on Earth had claimed that Humans could be formidable Hunters while others thought of them as 'soft meat'. The detractors had claimed that none of the humans would last more than six months, so technically it was a win for the supporters of the experiment, but it was not likely to be repeated anytime in the next few centuries, so the survivors had been retuned to Earth to fend for themselves.

* * *

Amelia Bones sat at her desk in the DMLE staring down at the horrifying metal disks piled on the desk, held together by a single leather cord. Every disk a child lost; a family who had spent six years not knowing and now would have to grieve. A letter she would have to write to the relevant law enforcement agency. Another child that could so easily have been her dear Niece Susan. She now also knew the names of the survivors, but somehow that seemed worse. After meeting the three at the station she knew they could not really be called children anymore. Something had been lost, something precious that had been taken from them that they could never get back.

A chill ran down her back as she remembered how they had introduced themselves, not by name but as numbers. Her eyes flicked across to a bottle of Fire Whisky that was almost begging her to drink it and, for a while at least, free herself from the horror of the knowledge she now possessed. Clamping down on that temptation, she began the work of sorting through the disks and making the necessary notifications.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Stalking Death

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Predator. I would buy them but I am broke.

Summary: One Hundred five year old children, all around the world, disappear. It is the most mysterious Case of Amelia Bones' Career. Six years later, three of them reappear, and Amelia almost wishes they hadn't because the Wizarding World will never be the same again.

A/N: I have had a number of reviews criticising my portrayal of Amelia at the Station. There are three reasons Amelia did not take them in for questioning. First, she was in shock. Second, Aurors are not allowed to formally question children without parents or guardians present. Thirdly, it is illegal in the Magical World to prevent a person enrolled at Hogwarts from boarding the Express.

* * *

There was a full two foot gap between the Trio of Harry, Hermione and Neville and the remainder of the First Year students. While the others were nervous, shifting from one foot to the other, the Trio stood still and erect. Everyone's attention went the doors as they opened to reveal a stern Witch, who surveyed the group giving a prepared speech about getting sorted and the houses before her eyes settled on the Trio.

"You are out of uniform, Miss…" the Witch.

"Granger." Hermione grated out. "No skirts."

"Miss Granger, you are required to be in Proscribed School Uniform." The Professor said.

Hermione looked at the Professor, then looked over at Harry who gave a slight nod. Hermione then proceeded to very rapidly click with her tongue for twenty seconds.

"She does not wear skirts, Professor." Harry said. "Section 48 subsection Q which outlines the recommended uniforms but it does not specify that female students are required to wear skirts. Section 58 subsection B states that uniforms are able to be modified within reason to accommodate medical conditions."

"Is Miss Granger unable to answer for herself?" The Professor said.

"Hermione did answer, I simply translated." Harry said.

The Professor looked at the Trio for a moment before turning back through doors

"Follow me." She commanded.

The Trio lead the procession of First Years into the Great Hall. Hermione looked up at the enchanted ceiling that showed the clear nights sky outside and absently signed 'pretty'.

"So, which ones do you think we have been on?" Neville asked Harry quietly glancing up.

Harry scanned the image for a second before pointing at one star.

"That one was the Netrioth hunt." He said.

Hermione, a few seconds later pointed at another star.

"Kathryn." Was all she said.

The two boys studied the star for a second before they both nodded. That was the system where they had lost Kathryn Creevey. Harry particularly remembered holding her in his arms as she bled out from being gored by a boar like creature that was four foot to the shoulder and three thousand pounds with tusks as strong as diamonds. After Kathryn's death it had taken the entire Pack, then four strong, to take down the creature, as much to avenge Kathryn as for the trophy they had been sent to collect.

The sorting proceeded with most of the new students either cautious or afraid. When Hermione's name was called the Sorting Hat was on her head for only as second before it called out 'Gryffindor' with a slight note of panic in its usually level voice. For Neville it screamed out 'Gryffindor' almost before it was on his head. When Harry's name was called, the Hat did not even wait to be put on his head.

"Gryffindor! Gryffindor! For Merlin's sake, don't put me on his head, he's a Gryffindor!" It screamed in panic as he approached.

Harry just gave the Hat a predatory grin and went to sit between Hermione and Neville at the Gryffindor Table. After the sorting food appeared at the table. Unlike the other First Years, who stared at the food in awe for a second before reaching out to take something, the trio immediately began selecting and methodically eating the foods which had the best nutritional balances to keep them in peak condition.

After dinner the Headmaster did his little speech, which kind of made him seem nuts, especially when he said that the Forrest was forbidden as was the third floor corridor 'to anyone who does not wish to die a horrible death'.

Hermione signed the 'permission to speak?' hand signal in her language and Harry nodded.

"Hunt?" Hermione asked in sign language.

"We'll see." Harry replied in kind

Soon they were headed up to the Gryffindor Dormitories.

* * *

Amelia Bones walked out of the Macintyre house, leaving sobbing parents behind, mourning their only child. This was the hardest part of her job, but in this case it was worse. Normally there was at least a body and an account of how the person died to bring back to the family, but for the three she had to visit, there was nothing, just the knowledge that their loved one was never coming home. Hell, Amelia herself did not know how Ronald Weasley, Jenny Macintyre or Kathryn Crevey had died. Training Accident, on a 'Hunt' or Suicide. That last one really sent chills through her, the though of children committing Suicide was one of the most horrifying she had ever encountered, worse than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his power.

Amelia found a secluded location and Apperated aware from the Macintyre home, heading next for the Creevey Residence, with the Weasley's planned after that. This one would be harder than the Macintyre Household, as the Creevey's had two younger children. Both boys and both had shown signs of Accidental Magic, not that that was surprising to Amelia. Their mother was a squib, not that her husband had known that when their daughter had gone missing, so while the father had reported it to the local Police, the mother had reported it to the DMLE, along with observations of her daughter's Accidental Magic to make sure the DMLE took the case.

With Harry having Dumbledore as his listed Guardian, and Neville's Grandmother having been at the Station when the trio had returned, at least Amelia did not have to inform them of their Return. The Grangers… well, they were not Amelia's problem either. The former Misses Granger now lived in Australia with her new husband and refused to acknowledge that she had ever had a daughter. Mister Granger had died three years after Hermione had gone missing, never having given up on trying to find his daughter despite it costing him his marriage.

Amelia knocked on the Creevey's front door and was met by a ten year old boy.

"Hello, you must be Collin." Amelia said with a smile. "Is your mother home?"

"Mum!" the boy called out. "Some woman in funny clothes is here to see you."

"Colin!" Misses Creevey scolded. "That is rude. Oh, Amelia!"

"Hello Grace. Can I come in?" Amelia said.

Grace Creevey, formerly Grace Abbott, nodded slowly. Grace had grown up in the Abbott Estate, which was next door to Bones Manor, and had known the few years older Amelia when they were both children.

"I take it this is not a social call, Amelia." Grace said, sitting down on the sofa and indicating to an armchair for Amelia.

"No, Grace." Amelia said, solemnly. "I am Director of the DMLE now. We have had a… development in regards to Kathryn."

"She's dead, isn't she?" Grace said. "Otherwise you would not have come yourself."

"I'm sorry, Grace." Amelia said genuinely.

Grace Creevey started sobbing.

"Grace, honey." Mister Creevey said, coming into the living room and seeing his wife crying. "What's the matter?"

"Mister Creevey." Amelia began. "My name is Chief Detective Inspector Amelia Bones, Scotland Yard Special Branch."

She flashed her DMLE badge, which was charmed to show Muggles a Scotland Yard Special Branch badge.

"I think you should sit down." She continued. "It is about your daughter."

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Stalking Death

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Predator. I would buy them but I am broke.

Summary: One Hundred five year old children, all around the world, disappear. It is the most mysterious Case of Amelia Bones' Career. Six years later, three of them reappear, and Amelia almost wishes they hadn't because the Wizarding World will never be the same again.

* * *

The Trio sat in their first class, Transfiguration, waiting for the last stragglers to enter. Sitting on the desk was a common tabby cat who most certainly did not act like a tabby cat. The last ones in, just after the bell, were one of Harry and Neville's Dorm mates and one of the Slytherins that they shared the class with. The cat jumped off of the table and transformed in midair into Professor McGonagall who proceeded to chastise the two late students.

While the tables were technically designed to seat two students, the entire Trio had squeezed into a single table, with Hermione sitting in between Harry and Neville. There were four sheets of parchment in front of them, one for each of them taking notes on the class and one where they were jotting down possible explanations on how the Professor had shifted from a small cat to a full grown woman and methods of using the different theories, which ranged from density manipulation to some form of quantum entanglement, to a different effect than turning into a feline and possible combat applications. Of course no one knew what they were writing as they were using the same Yautja script as the combat and training records that were tattooed on their biceps, occasionally the script was broken by what appeared to be mathematical calculations.

"Mister Potter." Professor McGonagall said. "Just to confirm, you three can write in English, correct?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry replied. "We are completely fluent, spoken and written, in English and Yautja. Conversationally fluent in French, German, Mandarin, Trelath, Netor and Kreel. Can do point and say in seven other languages and can recognise another fifteen enough to instigate translation protocols."

"Yes… well." McGonagall said, surprised by the answer. "All homework assignments and examinations must be completed in English. Also, all three of you please see me for a moment after class."

The class soon finished and the trio waited behind as the Professor approached them.

"I have had reports that you three were not in your dorm rooms last night." McGonagall began. "Before I dock points for being out after curfew, I wanted to give you chance to explain."

"We weren't out after curfew." Harry replied. "We were in the Gryffindor dormitories, just not in our individual year level rooms."

"Then where were you?" McGonagall asked. "I would have had reports if you were in any of the other year level dorms."

"The Common Room." Neville said. "Three hour rotational watches."

"I don't understand." The Professor admitted.

"Standard field protocol." Harry explained. "One of us stays awake in three hour shifts while the others sleep. Standard procedure in any situation where we can't properly secure our nest."

"That seems a bit paranoid, Mister Potter." McGonagall said.

Harry began pulling his shirt out of his pants and showed the Professor a mass of scar tissue seven inches wide and three inches tall on his left flank that looked like thousands of tiny overlapping cuts.

"That happened the only time we ever didn't set a watch." Harry replied. "Death is a cold, hard bitch. You don't invite her over if you can help it."

"Potions." Hermione said simply.

"Of course." Harry acknowledge. "If you will excuse us, Professor."

With a nod, McGonagall let them go. Neville and Hermione took up flanking positions around Harry as they made their way down to the Potions Lab. They had just arrived when the door was flung open by the professor.

"What are you waiting for? Get in here." Professor Snape snapped.

The workstations in the Potions Lab were set up for two students, breaking up the trio. Harry and Hermione took one workstation while Neville sat at the adjacent workstation with a blonde haired Slytherin girl. The professor launched into a prepared speech that sounded pretentious, which the trio basically tuned out until the Professor completed the roll.

"Mister Potter, our new celebrity." Snape said with a sneer. "Tell me, what would you get if you mixed powdered root of Asphodel with an infusion of Wormwood?"

Harry thought for a moment before answering.

"A crude attempt at the preparation shots for Cold Sleep." Harry replied. "It does achieve neurological stasis, but fails to properly prepare the body for metabolic stasis."

The entire class, including the Professor, stared at Harry's response. Even Snape had trouble understanding the answer within his frame of reference.

"Ok. Where would you look if I asked you for a Bezoar?" Snape continued.

"Bazoar? Oh you mean a Poison Sink?" Harry replied. "Why would you bother with one of those. Naturally occurring ones are only 40 to 60 percent effective against ingested poisons, that is provided they are administered prior to the poison crossing from the stomach into the bloodstream. And they are completely useless on injected or wound introduced poisons. I would go with the blood based neutraliser in my field med-kit."

"Right." Snape said, stunned. "Open to page fifteen in your texts. Today we will be going over proper Potions safety procedures."

* * *

"Alright, what did you two do this time?" Percy asked as he glared at the Twins.

The three Weasley's were sitting in Professor McGonagall's office awaiting the Deputy Headmistress who has called them there.

"Nothing." Fred said.

"We have not had time." George added.

"For once, Mr Weasley, your brothers are not in trouble." McGonagall said from the doorway. "Your parents will be along shortly to collect all three of you. There has been some bad news."

"It's not Ginny is it?" George asked.

"She's ok, right?" Fred added.

"Your sister is fine." McGonagall replied and then paused. "The DMLE has an update on your brother Ronald."

"That sounds ominous." Percy said.

"He has been confirmed as deceased." McGonagall said solemnly. "You have our condolences."

At that point the door opened and Professor Dumbledore escorted Arthur and Molly inside. The three boys instantly gathered around their parents and were wrapped up in comforting hugs. None of the boys noticed the small metal disk clenched in Molly's hand. A disk with 'Ronald Weasley' on one side and '44' on the other.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Stalking Death

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Predator. I would buy them but I am broke.

Summary: One Hundred five year old children, all around the world, disappear. It is the most mysterious Case of Amelia Bones' Career. Six years later, three of them reappear, and Amelia almost wishes they hadn't because the Wizarding World will never be the same again.

A/N: In this fic there will be no further direct contact with the Predators who trained Harry, Hermione and Neville, nor will the trio be fighting Xenomorphs (Aliens). Also some people have wondered about the Predators in this fic as they 'have an honour code' because they don't kill unarmed people in the movies. They don't have a benevolent 'honour code', they just don't kill unarmed people because there is no sport in it.

A/N2: There have been comments that Hermione is 'submissive' in this fic. Not true, sure she defers to Harry but he is the Pack Leader, so it is like a subordinate officer deferring to a superior officer in the Military, plus her throat injury means she is less vocal and verbally bossy than she was in the books/films, but this is a far cry from being submissive.

* * *

"Albus, we are going to have to do something about Potter, Longbottom and Granger." McGonagall said to the Headmaster.

"They are children, Minerva." Dumbledore said sagely. "They will adapt to how things are done here."

"I don't think those three have ever been children." McGonagall replied. "And I don't see them bending on this issue. They see it as survival."

"It is sleep. Not exactly a life or death pastime, at their age at least." Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair.

"I think for them it is." McGonagall countered. "Every night, for the four weeks that they have been here, the three of them camp down in the Gryffindor Common Room. One of them stays awake for a three hour shift while the other two sleep to ensure nothing attacks them, then they rotate. I don't know what happened in the six years they were missing, but it was something that made them self-reliant and very cautious."

"That is not a viable situation." Dumbledore said with a frown. "We can't have students sleeping in the common rooms. Have they given any explanation?"

"They said they always do it when they cannot 'properly secure their nest', by which I believe they mean their sleeping location. I also get the distinct impression that they would not tolerate being separated, and personally I would not care to try. I'm not afraid to admit that those three frighten me." McGonagall explained.

"There are those old visitor quarters on the fourth floor. They haven't been used in a few hundred years but we'll see if they find them acceptable." Dumbledore suggested.

"I would not tell anyone else, expect perhaps Poppy, where they are staying. Especially Snape. I have a feeling those three won't want too many people knowing where they sleep and will defend what they see as theirs." McGonagall warned.

"I trust Severus with my life." Dumbledore replied.

"Maybe, but they don't." McGonagall countered. "Think about it this way, I can justify you, Poppy and me in case of an emergency. Snape however? What possible reason could he have for knowing? He's not their Head of House or a Medical Professional. If we spread this information out too much, or lie to them on this, they will find out and never trust us again. Assuming they don't take more… drastic action."

Dumbledore simply nodded with a sigh before his deputy left. Severus would have to be out of the loop on this one.

* * *

McGonagall escorted Harry, Hermione and Neville, all holding their duffle bags with their possessions, into the old guest quarters on the fourth floor. It was a suite of rooms that were designed for when Noble parents visited a few centuries ago. There was the lounge room, a bathroom, and four bedrooms. The Master bedroom had a very large bed and large wardrobe; the Lady's bedroom which had a smaller but still large bed, a smaller wardrobe and a vanity desk with mirror; the Maid's bedroom, located next to the Lady's room, it had a small bed, a rack to hold clothes and a simple mirror; and finally the small Bunk Room, which had two bunk beds and four footlockers, for the Lord's personal bodyguards.

The trio looked around the suite, checking out every room and tapping on the walls to ensure there were no hidden cavities or passages in the walls, all of which were bare of portraits. After ten minutes searching, Harry approached McGonagall and nodded that the rooms were acceptable.

"Once I leave you can set the password by tapping your wand to this rune and speaking the password you want into this hole. Then the portrait outside will recognise the password. I have taken the liberty of removing all of the portraits from inside the suite and the fireplace is not connected the Floo network." McGonagall advised.

"What about those almost invisible little things that would come into the Gryffindor Dorms at night?" Harry asked. "They never bothered us so we left them alone but it was disconcerting."

"They are called House Elves and their job is to clean the dorms, cook and launder the student's uniforms." McGonagall said. "They are not able to perform their magical transportation in Hogwarts thanks to the Wards and these rooms, unlike the dorms, do not have a House Elf entrance. The only people who know about this room is The Headmaster, the School Nurse and myself, in case of an emergency. You are expected to be in here by curfew just as you were in the Gryffindor Dorms."

With that, Professor McGonagall left the trio alone in the suite. Harry immediately set the password, a simple phrase they had heard a thousand times, in Yautja.

"Alright, let's get to securing this place. Dump the gear in the bunk room for now. Hermione, prep the traps. Laser tripwires, motion sensors. You know the drill. Neville, you and I are going to work on reinforcing the door." Harry ordered.

The other two simply nodded and got to work. A few hours later they had the fortifications completed. The door was now more reinforced and had four deadbolts securing it in addition to the password on the portrait outside the door. The door had a laser tripwire that was linked to Harry and Hermione's Plasma Casters, which were set up across the room aimed at chest height on an adult. Hermione had also set up a tripwire across the fireplace, thanks to McGonagall's comments, that had Neville's Plasma Caster linked and aimed at the fireplace. There were also motion and thermal sensors all over the lounge room and a few pressure plates under the rugs that were all hooked up to some nasty surprises. The whole trap system was also linked to remote activation and deactivation tags that the trio had, so they could activate the system when they left the room or when they went to sleep at night.

The three of them would be sleeping in the Master bedroom, so they had converted the other bedrooms. The Lady's bedroom had become their Trophy Room, with trophies from all their successful hunts and small personal items from the three fallen Pack members. The Maid's bedroom had become their armoury, where they kept their weapons, armour and equipment when it was not being used, and the Bunk Room had become general storage, for their duffle bags and other items that were not commonly used.

Once they finished cleaning up, including showering and getting ready for bed, the trio retreated into the Master bedroom. Safe and secure in their own living area, they let down their guard and reverted to their old shipboard habits, especially as the Master bedroom was charmed to be a pleasant temperature no matter what the weather outside, just like the ship had been. Neville slept in a pair of soft shorts and a tank top, while Harry preferred just a pair of long, soft pants without a shirt. Sleeping, when safe and secure, was the only time Hermione ever wore a dress, albeit a linen nightie.

Hermione would only let her Pack, or if absolutely necessary a medic, see her legs. She would not subject anyone else to them and she knew her Pack did not care as they knew how she had gotten the multitude of chemical burn scars on her legs, and were grateful to her. She had gotten them saving Harry and Jenny's lives aboard ship during an emergency. All three had their own collection of scars, but Hermione's legs… even with Yautja technology, a few more minutes without treatment and she never would have walked again and probably would have lost her legs, which would have meant she was 'culled' from the training and executed. That incident had greatly affected Hermione and had almost caused her to pull away from the Pack, but Jenny and Kathryn had insisted that she still wear nighties and had done everything they could to ensure that Hermione did not feel shunned or made to feel ugly by the Pack. Now they were gone and Hermione wore the nighties in their memory.

As they climbed into the huge bed in the Master bedroom, Harry activated the security in the lounge room. Harry stretched out just to one side of the middle of the bed and Hermione curled up next to him, while Neville was laying on his side a slight distance away on Harry's other side. Hermione idly ran her finger over the lines of text on Harry's bicep, such little recognition for some truly momentous and horrifying experiences. Harry reached around Hermione and began to gently run his fingers through her hair in a way that calmed her.

The Trio had survived when so many others had not, thanks to each member playing to their strengths. Harry was the leader, the decision maker. He took it upon himself to, as much as possible, make sure they all survived. Hermione was the brains of the operation, she made the plans and gave Harry the information he needed to make the decisions. Neville was the muscle of the Pack, which is not to say he was unintelligent, but he was the strongest physically and the most dependable in combat.

It had been the same with the others in the Pack, they had all fallen into specialised roles that best suited them. Jenny Macintyre had been their eyes, a superb stealthier and pathfinder she had always been out front scouting the way for the Pack. Kathryn Creevey had been the Pack's ears, able to pull more information more quickly out of the wristcomps and off the airwaves than even most of the Yautja. Ron Weasley however, had never gotten the opportunity to fill a niche role in the field, having died in a training accident just after their first Hunt, but he had shown promise in a few areas.

Hermione snuggled slightly deeper into Harry's side as she dropped off to sleep, and he continued to gently stroke her hair, it having a calming effect on him as much as it did on her. He would have to see if they could arrange a memorial service for Jenny, Kathryn and Ron. It would help their families no doubt but it would also help the Pack. The Pack had never gotten a chance to grieve, not really. They had been expected to just continue on. A memorial service would give everyone a chance to say goodbye.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Stalking Death

Author: Knife Hand

Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Predator. I would buy them but I am broke.

Summary: One Hundred five year old children, all around the world, disappear. It is the most mysterious Case of Amelia Bones' Career. Six years later, three of them reappear, and Amelia almost wishes they hadn't because the Wizarding World will never be the same again.

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Neville were sitting at the end of the Gryffindor Table closest to the Teacher's Table, 'talking' in the hand signals that they often used and gesturing to the pieces of cutlery, platters and salt cellars. Dumbledore and McGonagall were trying to figure out what the trio were doing.

"Oh god." McGonagall said after studying them for a few minutes. "It's the Third Floor."

"The Third Floor?" Dumbledore asked, before looking again. "So it is. But what are they discussing?"

"Herding tactics. Intercept trajectories." McGonagall explained. "They are planning a Hunt. My father and uncle used to plan their Fox Hunts the same way."

"The question is, what are they planning to Hunt?" Dumbledore said, concerned.

Any further discussion was cut off when the main doors opened and Professor Quirrell came stumbling in.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeon!" Quirrell announced before falling forward in a 'faint'.

The entire hall seemed to take a breath, except for the Trio. Dumbledore could feel the collective scream just about to burst forth when a deep, challenging roar was heard throughout the all, joined a second later by two more. What was surprising was the initial roar was from the almost perpetually silent Hermione Granger. By the time all the eyes in the hall had moved from the prone form the DADA Professor to the Trio, they had stood and shucked their Robes and were attaching some kind mask to their faces.

Once the masks were attached they hurdled the table, and began jogging down the central aisle towards the main doors. As they jogged, Hermione pulled her Combi-Stick from a breakaway thigh holster, extending it from its collapsed form to its full staff form with blades at the end, while Harry and Neville extended their Wrist-Blades, on the right wrist for Harry and both wrists for Neville.

"Stay here." Harry ordered, his voice slightly distorted by the mask, and then they were gone.

"Minerva, Fillius, Severus, Aurora, Rolanda, with me." Dumbledore ordered.

"Headmaster, what about Quirrell?" Severus asked.

Dumbledore got what Severus was really saying.

"Charity, Septima, please keep a close eye on Quirinus. And make sure the students stay here." Dumbledore concluded.

* * *

Harry was tracking the Troll through a mixture of the thermal vision of the mask and audio motion tracking. They came across the Troll in a corridor, which was long and reasonably wide. Harry took a second to assess the situation before issuing his orders with a flash of his hands.

Harry roared a challenge to the Troll, catching its attention and allowing Neville to make a run down the edge of the corridor behind the turning beast to flank it. The Troll was large and strong, but slow and its club was a clumsy weapon. Its skin was very tough, able to take a strike from either the Combi-Stick or the Wrist-Blades with only minor injuries, so the Trio quickly fell into a pattern of attack. When the Troll attacked Harry and Hermione, she would deflect the massive club with her smaller, but sturdier, Combi-Stick while Harry would slash at its wrist and Neville would try to hamstring it. When it tried to go for Neville, he would dodge the slow attacks while Hermione and Harry would all-out attack in order to gain its attention back to them.

Like a pack of Wolves attacking a Bear, the Trio wore the Troll down with hundreds of small wounds, until the Troll fell only six minutes after they had spotted the Troll. When the Professor's arrived only four minutes later they found a grizzly scene. After one look Aurora and Rolanda vomited on the floor and the rest of the Professors looked decidedly green. Harry and Neville were in the process of flaying the back of the Troll, peeling the skin away from the flesh as they began to remove the spinal column. Meanwhile Hermione was using a dagger to remove the flesh from the skull.

Hearing the vomiting, Hermione looked up and quickly clicked out a message before looking back to her work, ignoring the blood covering her hands and forearms.

"Oh, Professors." Harry said looking up briefly from his butchering. "You wouldn't happen to have any mild acids on hand? Two Percent concentrations? It helps with cleaning the trophies and getting the brains out of the skull. Gets messy and starts to stink otherwise."

* * *

The Weasleys, the Macintyres and the Creeveys were standing on the grass lawn in front of Hogwarts, accompanied by Director Bones.

"You said that there was news on what happened to our Daughter." Mrs Macintyre said.

"Not exactly." Amelia Bones said.

"We have the news." Harry said as he approached with Hermione and Neville. "And you are here for a Memorial Service."

"Harry!" The Weasley Twins said in unison.

"Along with your children, Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom and Miss Granger were taken by… a group." Amelia explained. "They are the ones who informed me of your children's deaths."

"Ronald Weasley." Harry said, stepping forward handing a small box, which contained a small carved figure Ron had when they were taken and Ron's favourite knife, to Mr Weasley. "He died with honour, surrounded by friends."

The Trio lowered their heads to remember Ron's death. It had been after their first Hunt, on a world their trainers considered relatively 'safe', Ron had been sparring with Marie, a 'recruit' from the US that had a mutual friendship with Ron, despite not only being in different Packs but her not having The Edge either. It was one of their first training sessions with the Combi-Stick and Marie had accidently activated the blades for a brief moment when she had struck him with blow. With the dark clothes, no one had noticed the blood until Ron had collapsed, bleeding out before he could be helped. When Marie had realised what had happened, she went to armoury, received a set of Wrist-Blades, put her fist to her temple and activated the blades. She was their first Suicide, but would not be the last.

"Kathryn Creevey. She died with Honour, protecting her Pack." Harry continued.

Hermione stepped forward with Kathryn's box, which had a story book and her wrist-computer (deactivated of course), and handed it to Grace Creevey.

In their minds, the Trio saw the Boar-like target emerging from the orange and pink foliage. Kathryn had been on point and saw the creature coming for her, but she knew that the rest of the Pack was directly behind her, so she stood her ground knowing she would die. With the diamond hard tusks embedded in her guts, Kathryn's body had become entangled, neutralising its tusks and allowing the Pack to take it down.

"Jennifer Macintyre. She died with Honour, sacrificing herself to save others." Harry finished.

Neville stepped forward with Jennifer's box, which had a ragdoll and a shard of her armour, which he handed to Mr Macintyre.

The Hunt they lost Jenny on was not to some raging monster, but a species of small vicious creatures that had managed to develop enough sophistication for traps as well as bows and arrows. Neville had been hit in the gut with an arrow and, in her haste to get them out, she had walked into a trap that had snapped her leg like a twig. She had stayed behind in order for Harry and Hermione to get Neville out, having already gotten the trophy they had been sent for. Jenny managed to draw in the groups that had been hunting them, buying enough time for the others to get away before detonating the Nuclear Bomb in her Wrist-Computer. Jenny had been close to Neville.

After a few minutes of silence, Mr Macintyre looked over at the Trio.

"What was my daughter to you?" he asked.

"She was… Pack. Family." Hermione said in her gravelly voice. "Sister."

Mr Macintyre simply looked at them for a moment before nodding.

TBC…


End file.
